slow show
by mirrorsandfevers
Summary: She always had a way of tightly fisting his heart, squeezing out blood as red as the paint on her lips tonight, without even speaking. (Quinn/Puck, one-shot, future)


**A/N:** This one's been posted on my blog for the last few months, so I tried to polish it up a little bit for storage here. It's still just my usual - a long, mad dash style stream of text brought on more by an emotional onslaught than it was planning. I think it's at the very least legible, even if I'm sure it's riddled with errors. Sorry again for not really having the time to properly proof or find a beta. But, fic'ing is just a hobby, so I don't have that kind of time to devote to it. That business out of the way - this is a future style _**one-shot**_ of Quinn & Puck set some fifteen years after their graduation. Not technically AU in that it's in the same verse and a plausible future scenario - but obviously there's canon divergence. It was inspired by my obsession at the time with The National's wonderful little tune "_Slow Show." _Credit to them for the opening lyrics and to Glee & it's writers for the invention of these characters.

* * *

_Standing at the punch table swallowing punch_  
_Can't pay attention to the sound of anyone_  
_A little more stupid, a little more scared_  
_Every minute more unprepared_

* * *

It had been fifteen years since he graduated, and about ten since he stepped foot in this gym.

There was a span of about five years or so after graduation that he was still just piddling around Lima before he really started his life. So he'd still cruise the high school. He'd perv on the senior chicks; maybe shoot some hoops with the jocks to make some fast cash. He might even attend a few school functions just to hang out with "Mr. Hudson" or to bust Figgins chops. All in between writing his infamous screenplay. In those years he was still seeing a good bit of dear old McKinley High.

Now, Noah Puckerman didn't even live in the area anymore. He'd relocated permanently to the glam, sunny hills of California. That piece of shit screenplay had gotten him absolutely nowhere – but when he'd stopped hiding behind it and using it as a reason to fail he'd ended up with the successful career in the music industry that had always seemed like such a pipe dream. He might not be the best at piecing together a cohesive story, but he sure knew how to write a song. Well enough that he'd been nominated for two Grammy awards so far (it was really looking good for him to win this second nom, but he wouldn't hold his breath over it) and couldn't go a day without hearing his work on the radio. He got to work with some of the most amazing people in the industry. Jam with them every night in secluded little clubs if he wanted, and still get to live a normal down to earth kind of life. It was more than he could have ever asked for. Better than being a rock star.

The truth was…he'd never wanted to be a star. He wasn't Rachel Berry. He wasn't his loser father. He didn't need the attention, the fame, the applause. All of that was empty and hollow. Even as a punk kid he'd known that. The only thing he'd ever wanted was to end up better off than people thought he would. To carve out a little piece of success and not be a total waste of space. And really, just earning his high school diploma had sort of done that for him. But he'd pushed it even further, and couldn't ask for more. He was so far from that kid with a mohawk, a smart mouth and no expectations of himself.

All those humdrum years messing around in town felt so long past. And the years he was actually a student? Most days, they felt so far in the past that they might as well have been a chunk of someone else's life. Yet all it took was walking down that hallway of lockers, passing by the auditorium entrance, getting a whiff of the locker rooms, glancing through the glass window of the choir room door, and ending up in this time capsule of a gym to transport him right back. In fact, he could swear he felt his palm itching to grab Jacob Ben Israel by the collar and demand his lunch money. Not that such would do any good these days, because despite the stereotypes about Jewish people and their money he'd heard through the grapevine that the red-head had declared bankruptcy and was back living with his folks.

Puck looked around the room to scope out the fiery afro just for old times sake and a good laugh when he saw her across the gym and his breath caught in his chest.

It wasn't the first time that green gaze and flowing blonde mane had stopped his heart in this gym. It had happened for the first time during athletic registration sophomore year. She'd just transferred in and there was already buzz about the newbie signing up to be head cheerio. Not one for cheer politics, he'd had no opinion on her whatsoever – until he laid eyes on her. Then he knew one thing for sure, and it was that she was a queen whose feet he would gladly serve at whether her talent got recognized by Sue or not. In fact, he'd approached her after her audition and let her know just that. Except he might have put it in a more lewd way which suggested her on her knees instead and ended up getting slapped. Damn, that was a good memory.

And it was just one of countless times she'd left him shell shocked in this gym. He'd felt his blood pressure rise a little anytime he looked over and saw her cheering on the sidelines when they shot hoops, during school assemblies when he'd scheme to sit closer to her on the bleachers, at all the proms where she'd looked like a princess. She always had a way of tightly fisting his heart, squeezing out blood as red as the paint on her lips tonight, without even speaking. Her thick lashes didn't hide that the look in her eye that said she knew what she did to him either. She'd always known.

Quinn Fabray wasn't just the star of his boyhood wet dreams anymore. She had turned into the glamorous celebrity he'd always known she had in her. At thirty-three, she wasn't quite Meryl Streep – but she was well on her way as far as he was concerned. She already had an Oscar. A well deserved one too. He'd saw the film that won it for her. Not the kind of movie he usually enjoyed, because there was no Will Farrell, no boobs, and not even any fast cars or shoot outs. He wasn't even going to lie and say that some parts of the flick hadn't made him almost fall asleep either, but every time Quinn had spoken he'd been wide awake and left in awe. The critics agreed too, calling her supporting role in the film a 'breakout' and predicting very early on her eventual golden win.

Everyone seemed particularly enraptured with a scene in the movie where she'd had to mourn the loss of a child. Puck knew he understood her nuanced performance better than any of those educated film buffs. He knew what a dark place inside herself she had to go for that muse, and no one could respect it more than him.

She was finally getting leading roles now, and the accolades were still pouring in. She insisted in interviews that she had never dreamed of going any further than the primetime soap opera she spent a few years on right out of Yale. He knew that because he watched them all, he read them all. A person on the outside might call him a little obsessed. And if that were to happen, well, he still had enough Puckasaurus in him to throw a 'bow or two.

The again, maybe he'd just laugh, shrug, and agree with their assessment. It had never been any secret to anyone that she was his weakness.

It was one of the reasons they'd been able to hurt each other so much. The reason that they'd left so much damage and destruction in their wake when they were kids and tried to make a go of it. They'd known how to push each other. How to press the other's buttons. No. It had gone past button pushing. They had known how to cut the one another deep. Make it bleed.

That's why even with everyone around claiming they'd made each other better; they'd had to just walk away after high school. They'd had to walk away before all the bleeding made a bigger mess than either of them could clean up.

Puck felt that familiar weakness in his knees now, as she navigated though people in his direction. Her curls framing her face, her cream dress gathered so she didn't rip it with her killer nude heels – she was a woman on a mission. He swallowed hard as she gave him that glare that he'd described as being only for him. It did things to him still. It had a way of both turning him on, and making his stomach flip for all the history and nostalgia it brought up.

When she stood before him, crossing her arms, raising her brow the words that poured out of her plumped lips were exactly what he'd known they were going to be.

"You said you were getting me a punch…half an hour ago" she accused "I finally went for my own and the bowl is drained." Quinn pouted, but he saw the playful spark in her eyes.

"Careful…you don't want the headlines Monday to be talking about how famed actress Quinn Fabray likes to henpeck her husband in public," he teased back, pulling the red cup out from behind his back and handing it over to her.

"Well, seeing as they don't even know we're married yet…I think shock would come before judgment."

Obviously, their plan to walk away from their relationship and just remain a part of each other's lives in a positive way had failed.

He wished he could tell people that their twenties had been a lot better to their love than their teen years had. However, the addition of the bright lights of Hollywood to everything had only exacerbated their issues. Jealousy, insecurities, hesitation, careers, resentment, regrets, even booze and drugs had stood between them at different points. There had been plenty of nights he'd sat up drinking with hands bruised from beating walls in frustration after she'd walked away from him again and again. Even more nights when it was just his insides that felt bruised after they'd said words they couldn't take back.

"That's right….for now I'm just the 'sultry song writer boyfriend' who the tabloids just don't understand why you'd want to spend your time with when you could totally be making love to your _Tender Hearts_ co-star" he joked, making a face. _Tender Hearts_ was Quinn's newest release — and just as the title suggested it was a tear jerking rom-com starring her and one of the current A-list dudes.

Puck was just glad it wasn't Gosling again. That guy might seem classy, but he was handsy.

"Oh hush, they like you…or they did until you flipped that one outside the club off that night," Quinn gave him a really little glare on that one. She preferred to keep a low profile as a celebrity, but sometimes the paparazzi riled Puck up and annoyed him and the inner teenager came out "Now they think you might be a little too much of a bad boy for my reputation…." She bit her lip as her gaze softened again.

Puck snickered. "Just wait until they find out that American's sweetheart let the badass put a ring on her finger…" he pulled her hand from her hip, admiring the princess cut ring and the fact that she could wear it while they were hiding out here in Lima. They'd been married for almost six months now, and her agent still thought it was a good idea to keep the marriage on the low down. For their own sakes of course. Once he was her husband rather than her boyfriend, the digging into their pasts would really flare up. It wouldn't be long before their whole complicated life story was detailed in all of the magazines.

They wanted to in control of how and when that happened, so Quinn's people were already getting things in line. A nice spread on their private wedding would be appearing by the end of the year. They'd spend the holidays with Beth getting her ready for what it could mean for her. She was seventeen now, with her own budding Broadway career and they wanted her in on all the decisions that could affect her. Just thinking of how gorgeous that kid was getting made Puck nervous. He already felt like he needed to fly to New York and kick ass every time he saw some lovey dovey Tweet or instagram picture with a boy he thought looked sketchy. The last thing he needed were dramatic articles in papers making guys think his daughter was a perfect target because she had "daddy issues."

Quinn was admiring her ring too as he held her hand out, kissing her palm lightly before linking their fingers. "They'll just have to get used to it…I've been waiting on this ring since I was sixteen years old…and just a couple years shy of two decades later I have it." She looked very proud of this fact. That look she used to get as she was hoisted to the top of the pyramid. He hoped being with him made her feel that high.

"I recall offering you a home and furniture at sixteen…." He reminded, arching his own brow

"I also recall you equating sex with me to sex with a beehive in those years –"

"I didn't equate it to sex with a beehive…I said I'd _rather_ have sex with beehive…get your facts straight, Fabray."

"I'm glad I dated Finn a second time just to piss you off," she grumbled "and let that Jesus kid touch my boobs just in hopes he'd tell you."

"Nice…send a poor dreads to Hell just to stick it to me, huh?"

They both laugh at that. Odd how funny all that stuff seems now when it was all so dramatic and detrimental when they were kids. And they hadn't even broken the surface of their issues from then, or the ones from their adult years. Tonight didn't seem like the time to dredge all of that up though.

"Let's not bicker on our honeymoon, sweets" Puck suggested, pulling her close.

"We're not in Bora Bora anymore, Puckerman….and honeymoons don't last for six months.." she sighed, remembering theirs and wishing it really could have went on and on. Truly perfect days between them. Not even so much as a spat over the thermostat setting in the hotel room.

She supposes life like that would get boring very quick though.

"Ours will never end," Puck said but snickered when she rolled her eyes at the cheesy sentiment "okay that was lame…but let's at least keep celebrating until the world at large knows you're really a Puckerman?"

Quinn opened her mouth to protest.

"I know, I know…your career and your independence insist that you keep Fabray…but come on babe…the guy who gave you that name was a dick and you're a hell raiser at heart…can't we at least agree you're a little bit Puckerman?"

Those truths had Quinn giving an agreeable nod and a little smile. She wasn't sure why she clung to the name so hard really. Perhaps because the name was all her father had given her in lieu of warmth and affection. He hadn't even given her away at her wedding. Maybe one day she would take Puckerman as her name. When she was ready to let go. Or ready to hold on. She wasn't sure which way the symbolism went.

A popular rock ballad of the moment begins to filter through the air of the gym. All of the couples move together, and the pair of them share a conspiratorial smile over how few of the couples know the lyrics of tune are Puck's own creation. They preferred not to talk about their successes and careers with their friends.

In fact, they'd spent most of the night silent while a very pregnant Rachel passed around scrapbooks of her early Broadway years and Kurt critiqued her performances in each play – in the good natured way of a diva brother-in-law of course. In all honesty Quinn was impressed with his newfound maturity. He'd seemed far more eager to talk about Sam's modeling career and voice acting than his own Tony awards.

Where once upon a time, Puck and Quinn would have relished lording their lavish Los Angeles lives over the others, when it came their time to speak they really didn't even get into their careers except to say they were hectic. They talked about the wedding, and how glad they were that most of them had been able to attend. They showed pictures of Beth dancing in her latest production – listened to Mike's pleas that she apply for a summer session at the Joffrey where he was now a decorated instructor. It all felt very grown up and surreal.

Puck even admitted as much as they danced.

"We could always make a trip to the 7-Eleven…get a couple slushies…for old times sake.." Quinn's lips curled up at the side. Perhaps it was a character flaw, but even though it was water under the bridge, she couldn't help but smile remembering all the grins she and Puck had shared after he'd filled Rachel's face with ice.

"Or…get somebody to buy us some beers…and go play cowboys and Indians together for old times sake…except this time no psycho red headed kids and the only one tied up would be you…" Puck threw out some other blast from the past moments to make her smile.

"Only of you won't be sexting Santana this time…"

"I won't if you won't-" Quinn gut punched him before he got any further with that quip but they both busted out with another chuckle.

What they ended up doing was just dancing. They slow danced far past when the song was over, even past the next three. Sometimes they would talk, joke, pick at each other. Mostly they just held each other and swayed to the beat. For all those proms they'd missed. The dances they'd given up to avoid hurting the other or being hurt.

"You know…you took my breath away when I saw you from the punch table earlier" he whispered, tugging her closer and resting his chin on her shoulder "it's like for a second I'd forgotten how beautiful you are…forgotten you were already mine."

"For now I am," she teased in a whisper, moving to kiss his neck and rub his back.

They both tightened theirs grips on each other after that. Because as much of a tease as it was, they knew their past. They knew how fragile of a pair they could be. How life and their own antics seemed often against them. For now, all they could do was hold on tight and enjoy – try to figure out a way to stretch this slow show on as long as they'd managed to keep their slow dance going.


End file.
